


This Explains a Lot, Doesn't it

by hpdm4ever, MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever)



Series: Leo + Luis (After Neymar) [5]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Atlético Madrid, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, FC Barcelona, Friendship, La Liga, M/M, Sex, Supercopa, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29435478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/hpdm4ever, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/MessiFangirl
Summary: Luis keeps his back to the tv, gaze floating out over the room while he tries to enjoy the party. In the back of his mind, he knows time is ticking down.Can't be much more.And then, Lucas looks over his shoulder at the game, and his jaw drops. At the same time, there’s a burst of shouting and commotion."Oh, shit, Messi clocked him!" Koke says with glee.
Relationships: Lionel Messi/Luis Suárez
Series: Leo + Luis (After Neymar) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/806331
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	This Explains a Lot, Doesn't it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pique/gifts).



> My 100th work on AO3!
> 
> It's 6 years and a day since I posted my first little fic--David Villa, Temporary Masseur, 9848 words--here on February 13, 2015. I didn't even really necessary ship them. By then Villa had left Barcelona and I was only just starting to follow them after falling in love with Leo at the 2014 WC. In all my years of fandom, this was the first one where I actually felt the need to write more than one fic. 
> 
> Even though I read Harry Potter, Tolkien, Marvel, Sherlock, Star Trek, Good Omens, and countless other fics... I've stayed loyal to Football with my writing. 
> 
> And now I'm at 100 fics and 638,440 words. Who would've thought?
> 
> Thanks to everyone who repeatedly leaves me comments and kudos and makes me feel like I should keep at it. xo
> 
> P.S. pique: it's literally one line (you'll see!) lol but I added it for us ahah

The only reason Luis isn't watching Leo's Supercopa is that he's been getting ready for the party. Sure he had people to cook and clean for him, but he was still pretty involved in deciding where things should go and making sure he'd purchased enough alcohol. In fact, he's dumping a bag of ice into the cooler when José arrives. "Is it that late already?" Luis asks, wringing his cold hands to try to get the feeling back into them.

Knowing José (and Lucas too!) from national team meetups had made Luis' Atleti transition all that easier, and it wasn't unusual for José to be hanging around during their downtime. So really, he'd probably be here even if Luis wasn't hosting tonight.

José helps himself to one of the good beers from the fridge instead of the ones Luis has set out for the party and collapses on the couch in front of the tv. "I'm early, but yeah it's getting there." He takes a minute to sort through the cushions while he looks for the remote. "Where's the remote? Barça-Bilbao is going to extra time. Barcelona let them score in the 90th to tie it up. Can you imagine? I hate those kinds of games. Cholo would have us doing double sessions for a month afterward."

Truthfully, Luis rarely had time to watch Barcelona these days--and half of the time he's not sure he really wants to either. But more to support Leo, he watches when he can. Atleti was never in the Supercopa tournament anyway so it didn't matter much to him who won, and he or his teammates usually put the games on in the background just so they could follow the results. "Oh?" He pushes the cooler underneath the table and then looks over toward the tv. "Right in the corner, there. See it?"

José nods in thanks, clicking the tv on and putting his feet up on the coffee table. He nearly puts them right into the bowl of salsa. "What do you think of Barça's Araujo?" he asks as their fellow Uruguayan makes a perfect tackle against Bilbao. "You played with him a bit, right?"

"Mmm. I like him. Good guy," Luis says, scratching his jaw. "And he's definitely a decent center back. Not as good as you, but he's young. Only 21, I think? Talented. Got called up back in October for qualifiers if you remember, partly because you had Covid. Stayed on the bench against Chile. Though he started against Ecuador, which is unfortunate because we ended up losing that one. Not really his fault."

"Did he get called up for the March ones?" José asks, tilting his head back toward Luis who shrugs. "I can't recall either, but I bet with how he's been playing? I'm sure he's gonna end up back soon. Don't you think?"

"Leo says he's great," Luis answers after a moment of indecision. Not about how good Araujo is, but rather whether he should necessarily bring up Leo. It's not that he's hidden his relationship with Leo, but he also hasn't flaunted it either. They know he and Leo talk all the time and naturally, everyone on the team knows about their friendship. They just don't know it goes beyond friendship. His teammates are good people and wouldn't give him shit about it of course, however, with the number of goals Leo's scored against Atleti over the years...

Luis has tried not to drop Leo's name into every conversation.

Even if he wants to.

"Yeah?" José says, staring at Luis for a long minute like he knows everything he's thinking. Maybe he does at this point. He smiles then. "Well, that says it all, doesn't it? I think most people would kill for Messi to say that about them." He turns back to the tv just in time to see Iñaki Williams score in the 93rd. "Damn! Now that's a good goal."

People start filtering in after that, some of them congregating around the tv while others go immediately for the drinks or the huge platters of food. In the game, Barcelona's chasing a goal now and things are getting frantic as the extra time plods on. Luis hopes for Leo's sake that they can get one, but he isn't sure it's going to happen, and his compatriots seem to agree.

"They're gassed," Koke says as the game pauses for a substitution and he chews on a carrot stick. "Busi should have been off ages ago. Not sure why Koeman doesn't trust Puig, but I like the look of him in midfield."

"And look at Messi," Saúl says.

Luis stops in his tracks, having been about to fetch a beer for himself. He turns back toward the tv, searching out Leo, but the camera's moved on and he's at a loss as to what they're talking about. José flicks his eyes toward Luis but doesn't say anything.

"He's not tired. He never runs," Oblak says pointedly. He kicks his shoes up onto the table too, apparently thinking it's okay since José's done it, crossing his feet at the ankles comfortably.

"Yeah, but there's no way he's fit," Correa says quietly. He looks at Luis too, maybe knowing more about it than most of them. Luis wouldn't be surprised--Leo's always been open with his Argentina teammates. "His leg..." he adds, trailing off.

"Exactly," Saúl continues. "He's definitely not fit, you can tell. See how he's walking? There's a hitch in his step every once in a while. It's barely noticeable. Watch... There. Did you see it?"

There are a few questioning murmurs amidst those in agreement. Luis sees it, of course. He knows how Leo walks, how he jogs, how he sprints. It's actually a joke between him and Leo that Leo walks as though he has something big between his legs, but Luis isn't laughing right now. Saúl is right. But you'd either have to know Leo's body language extremely well or have to be paying close attention to see it as the clues are minute.

"Well, they're not going to take him off," Trippier says pointedly. He motions for Lemar or Dembélé to pass the bowl of chips and neither do. In the end, Llorente just sighs and reaches between them so that he can hand it over himself. "Cheers, mate."

"Even half fit he's better than anyone else they have," Vitolo says with a shrug. "And I mean, seriously, look at their bench now. Nobody. Trincão is the only one who isn't a goalkeeper or a defender. They'll throw him on at some point, but it won't be for Messi. Or, it shouldn't be." As the 105th minute approaches, the camera pans to Trincão by the sideline. "There you go, he's coming in for... Lenglet?"

"Koeman has to go for it," Koke says. "I mean, I don't see it happening, personally. Not their day. Well, rarely their day as the case may be, but..."

Luis goes to get his beer from the cooler. He has no desire to see the camera return to Leo time after time, capturing his frustration or unhappiness with the situation. And if he dillydallies by the cooler, chatting aimlessly with Lucas to avoid the game, well nobody calls him on it. Lucas knows what Luis is doing, obviously, but he plays along and they talk about the best places to eat that aren't downtown. Luis keeps his back to the tv, gaze floating out over the room while he tries to enjoy the party. In the back of his mind, he knows time is ticking down.

Can't be much more.

And then, Lucas looks over his shoulder at the game, and his jaw drops. At the same time, there’s a burst of shouting and commotion.

"Oh, shit, Messi clocked him!" Koke says with glee.

"Fuck off, Villalibre is the biggest diver I've ever seen," Oblak says with a laugh.

Luis turns around in shock, nearly spilling his beer all over himself in his haste. The players on the screen are all standing around a player on the ground--Villalibre, he assumes. Leo is rolling his eyes and speaking to the ref while gesturing to the guy, but Luis still has no idea what happened.

"They're gonna have to card him, though," Trippier says. "Yellow."

"Yellow," says José, agreeing.

"Red," Correa says, shaking his head and not looking happy.

"Hmm," says Koke. "Need to see the replay, but... it is Messi. Would they?"

"It could go either way. Red in my opinion though," says Saúl.

"Red," agrees Llorente. "Violent conduct."

Oblak votes yellow with Vitolo, while Lemar and Dembélé also go red.

They show the replay finally, and Luis holds his breath. "That's a fucking red," Koke says finally, and the rest of them start arguing amongst themselves. "Open or closed hand? You can’t really tell, but... I guess it looks closed to me. It's a punch. That's a red. He'll get 2 games is my bet."

Luis can see it.

He doesn't want to see it, but he does.

He can see Leo's frustration, see the way Leo goes to push Villalibre out of the way--just as he's pushed so many players out of his way over the years in his quest to sprint to the goal. Koke might be right. Leo's hand is closed, he thinks, except it is really, really hard to tell from the replay they're showing. The angle is simply terrible, and he's not sure why the network isn't showing it from a different view.

VAR continues to review it.

Trippier takes another handful of chips. "I would have punched him too. How many times did he foul Messi tonight?" He crunches thoughtfully. "Surely they'll card Villalibre, too, no? Obstruction for sure." That starts a new argument, with Trippier throwing his hands up in disgust. "Nobody ever calls it anymore, what's the point of the rule, then."

The ref reaches for the back pocket.

"Knew it," Koke says. Then he whistles. "That's his first-ever red for Barcelona, isn't it?"

Luis drops his beer and the bottle shatters into a million pieces.

There's a bunch of hooting from the guys dispersed throughout the room--those who have no idea what just happened. They're laughing at Luis for being so clumsy, joking about him being wasted already. The rest of them--the ones watching the game--cease their conversation. They look at him but don't say anything more. Luis thinks his feelings must be painted all over his face because they exchange glances amongst themselves. But he can't focus on them. All he can see is Leo miserably walking off that field.

And then José is there, taking his hand and pulling him away from the mess. "Did you cut yourself?" he asks, using a napkin to dab Luis' palm and fingers, searching for any glass that might have stuck him. When Luis feebly shakes his head, José sighs and pushes him further out of the way. Lucas is already squatting at his feet, trying to wipe the beer and glass into a small puddle on the floor, and Luis barely registers it. "It's alright, Luis, he'll be fine. It happens. And they clearly weren't going to win anyway."

"It's my fault," Luis blurts out.

Lucas has managed to contain most of the mess and he stands up and takes a step toward Luis and José. "What do you mean?" he asks, sounding confused.

"Leo," Luis murmurs, clenching his hands into fists. "He just wanted to be happy and instead they broke his heart. They fucking trapped him and--and--I couldn't do anything about it." He's only faintly aware of the way that José and Lucas have pulled him further away from the rest of the team. "Geri doesn't talk to him--nobody on the team talks to him anymore, and still, I left him. They made me go and... I didn't want to leave him alone," he says as he finally looks up at his teammates. "I didn't."

José pats him on the back. "We know, Luis," he says softly.

Luis takes a deep breath and pulls himself back together. Of course, they know. He thinks everyone in the world knows.

But still.

"I'm sorry," Luis says, feeling incredibly awkward. He's basically just told his teammates to their faces that he didn't want to be here with them. "I... I'm happy with you guys now, happy with Atleti, I promise. I just--" He trails off and rubs his face roughly. Taking another deep breath, he drops his hands. "He's important to me. And he's alone, trying to do everything because nobody else does anything. I hate what they did to him. I hate that they didn't sign another 9 and give him some fucking support--and I know I shouldn't be thinking that with us competing against them," he adds when he sees Lucas open his mouth.

"Well, you can think it, but you probably shouldn't go around saying it when you're one of us now," Lucas says after a beat. "Don't want people questioning your loyalties."

"Loyalties," Luis repeats with a forced laugh. "Yeah."

"Come on, now. What was it Bale said, remember?" Lucas says suddenly, smiling at them. "'Wales, Golf, Madrid. In that order.'" He laughs and elbows Luis. "You're shit at golf, so your version should be: Uruguay, Atleti, Messi. In that order." Luis laughs and José joins in, too.

And when they've calmed down, José claps him on the shoulder. "Alright, why don't you get a new drink and sit and relax with us, and in a little bit you can call him and see how he's doing? I bet he'd be happy to hear from you once he's changed and all."

Luis nods and lets himself be pushed over to the couch. The game's no longer on and instead, Lemar and Trippier have dug out his basket of PS5 games and there's a general argument as to who is best at Mario Kart. Luis sits down, smiling as his teammates move over for him and don't say anything about his meltdown. Koke passes him the chips and Oblak begins asking him questions about his decorator.

All in all, he's okay.

But truthfully, and he would never say this out loud... it would be Leo, Uruguay, Atleti.

In that order.

*****

Luis makes it an hour, tops, before he calls Leo.

"You should stop here on your way home," Luis says calmly. There's no judgment in his tone. No pointed remarks about Barcelona. He's pushed everything down and knows he's doing exactly what he should. There's always time for that later if he feels like it. When things aren't so raw. But right now? It's not something he should be focusing on. "Stop in Madrid instead of going straight back to Barcelona. You're going to have time off after this, anyway. Both for the suspension and for recovery for your leg. Can you swing it? Will they let you?"

He knows they might not. Might make him travel with the team.

But he also knows this Leo. And he might have a bit of leeway.

Leo doesn't answer for a long minute, and Luis would have thought they'd been disconnected except he can hear soft breathing on the other end.

"I don't know," Leo says finally, and he doesn't bother to hide anything. "We're at the airport. I'll have to see."

Luis can hear the pain and the regret, the disappointment, and the fatigue. It makes his heart hurt to know that this may not be so easily fixed. Luis, who knows Leo better than anyone ever will, knows how Leo feels. He knows Leo feels like he's let down the coach. The team. The fans. He knows Leo will be massacred by the press.

Already, flicking through Twitter, Luis has seen the pundits talking about how this was the last straw, how Leo is signaling that he's given up on Barcelona and it's time for him to go. Never mind that Leo had straight out tried to go and been trapped this summer. It makes his blood boil that nobody's mentioning that part.

There's nothing about how the problems in defense have never been fixed, how set pieces are always Barcelona's weakness, or how Koeman's substitutions weren't the ones they should have been. There's nothing about how the refereeing was poor, once again--going both ways--showing how the standards have fallen in La Liga.

And most of all, there's nothing about how Leo had pushed himself to try to be fit for the game--how he'd clearly played when he wasn't 100%--and how despite everything, he'd still been looking for the equalizer at the 120th minute. Luis had gritted his teeth when he'd seen some posts of Barcelona's own fans turn on Leo for it, and he'd swallowed down all his thoughts about their ingratitude and disloyalty.

He knew a thing or two about that ingratitude, himself.

But he's well aware that his new team is celebrating their latest win in his living room, and none of them are shy about showing their appreciation for Luis. He's let himself become one of them now, let the red and white sink into his blood. They welcomed him with open arms and he'll never forget it. And now? He's lost count of how many toasts have been made in his honor, how many cheers they've given at his name. Team top of the table by some distance and him currently pichichi, as well?

He's not doing too badly here.

"What did you think?" Leo asks, a hitch in his breathing after Luis' silence.

"About what?" Luis asks, but he knows.

"Did I deserve the red?" Leo asks quietly. "I haven't--haven't watched the tape, but..." He trails off and Luis can picture him rubbing his face tiredly. "He kept grabbing me, getting in my way, fouling me... He bumped me after I passed it, and I wasn't even mad, I was just thinking about getting into the box for Jordi. So I continued to run... And then he tried to push me and knock me over, and I didn't think anything of it. I thought I just pushed him out of the way. I thought I was just getting by him."

Luis has never lied to Leo before, and he's not going to start now.

"Yes. Probably," Luis mutters quietly, though he knows Leo can understand him. "I mean, I think he fouled you too--definitely obstructed you on purpose. But I think you hit him harder than you meant to when you tried to get around him." He's the one who rubs his face now because he knows this is the last thing Leo wants to hear. "He sold it well, went down like you'd killed him, everyone knows that. Could have gone either way. But there was enough contact for it to be a red."

"Oh?" Leo says, his exhaustion bleeding through.

"Yeah," Luis says, closing his eyes in regret.

"Okay," Leo murmurs.

"It'll be alright, Leo," Luis tries, even though he knows nothing he says right now will help. "The next time you score everyone will forget all about it. You know that. You're no Sergio Ramos, okay? This isn't something that's going to define your career."

There's a burst of loud music as Koke opens Luis' bedroom door and peeks his head in. Behind him, the party is raging on and Luis can hear Oblak shouting and the sound of something breaking followed by a roar of laughter. Koke winces and opens his mouth to say something, but upon seeing Luis still on the phone, he just waves his hand and exits as quickly as he came.

Sensing he's running out of time before he's really interrupted or retrieved, and also a little worried about what the hell they just broke out there, Luis sighs. "Just try to come, Leo? Fuck everyone and come here and catch your breath. Rest your leg and forget about everything."

"Fuck everyone," Leo echoes with a bit of a laugh, and the sound makes Luis smile.

"Well," Luis adds cheekily, "not *everyone*, eh?"

****

Luis thought he'd had enough time. He imagined the party would be ending soon and he'd most definitely have everyone cleared out before Leo arrived. Unfortunately, he'd underestimated his ability to corral intoxicated Colchoneros and the party is still in full swing by the time Leo texts he's at the gate. Still, he's able to push through the throng so that he can make it to the door before any of his guests try to answer the bell.

Leo's face is wan but his lips curl up in pleasure at the sight of Luis. His expression smooths out the second the rabble inside notice who's arrived, as if in preparation for dealing with Luis' teammates. But for the moment he ignores the group and drops his bag to the floor as he steps into Luis' embrace.

"I'm glad you're here," Luis murmurs into Leo's hair, arms wrapped around the lithe body pressed against his chest. He breathes in the familiar scent of Leo's travel shampoo and lets it fill his lungs greedily. He can feel Leo huff slightly, the faint warmth of the puff of air through his thin t-shirt, and it makes him smile. "Don't even--I know Christmas wasn't that long ago, but still. I miss you every day we're apart, you know," he says honestly.

Leo doesn't reply, but his hands stay fisted against Luis' back. If anything, his grip becomes tighter, and the hug lasts much longer than it normally would.

Luis relishes it, arousal threatening to pool down in his belly at the touch.

Someone whistles and the moment is broken.

"Sorry," Luis says, drawing back, although he's slow to release his hold on Leo and his fingertips drop to Leo's hips instinctively. They smooth over the fabric of Leo's Barcelona shirt and he increases the pressure gently so that he can feel Leo's body heat. "I'm surrounded by children. Thought they'd be gone by now," he adds over his shoulder loudly amidst a wave of laughter. "See if I ever host you guys again!"

"Well, you should have said you were kicking us out because Messi was coming!" José says with a wide grin. Luis thinks he looks relieved. "We're not dicks, we'll leave you guys alone. Honestly, the only reason we were ignoring you was that we just thought you were being an old man who wanted to sleep." He sets his beer bottle down on the counter and turns to the team. "Party's over for real, guys. Don't get photographed without your masks if you're going somewhere else."

There's some good-natured ribbing but everyone starts to leave when Koke stands up and gives them all a look. (You don't disobey your captain, after all.) Most of them don't know what to say to Leo--either because of the red card or because it's he's a rival--so there's a few stilted greetings as they stagger outside in various states of drunkenness.

Those who are slower to move are a little better. Although, Lemar and Trippier can't stop giggling at Leo as they're pushed along by Hermoso and Kondogbia. Luis doesn't even try to figure out what that's about.

Oblak's friendly and gives Leo a quick smile as he steers Llorente and Vitolo out the door so they don't careen their drunk asses into the wall, and they're followed by Saúl who's dragging a protesting Dembélé who's looking mournfully at his unfinished drink.

Lucas and José hug Luis goodbye, slapping hands with Leo like they're old friends, and say nothing about the fact that Luis nearly fell to tears earlier in the evening. "Call me tomorrow, eh?" José says on his way out, waiting until Luis smiles and nods before he goes. Lucas winks.

João Felix stares Leo down as he leaves, but this is offset by the last of them, Correa, stopping to hug Leo and kiss him on the cheek, genuinely happy to see his countryman. And if Leo weren't so clearly exhausted, Luis would invite Correa to stay for a bit and chat because Leo would definitely like that. As it is, Luis gently prods his teammate to continue on his way, keeping his arm around Leo's waist as they stand to the side out of the way of the door.

When they're alone, Leo sags slightly, and only Luis' grip keeps him upright. "Couch," Luis says, not waiting for Leo to answer before he propels him to the sofa. "You should be elevating that leg too." He pushes some of the decorative pillows to the side and kicks a few empty cans out of the way on the floor to make sure Leo doesn't slip on them. "It's gotta be killing you by now."

Leo merely sighs as he collapses into the cushions, limbs akimbo, tipping his head backward in a way that shows the bruised shadows under his closed eyes. His forehead is creased like he's carrying way too many worries with him. Still, his lashes are long and dark against his smooth skin, and his hair falls across his forehead just so. His lips are parted and there's a peek of pink as his tongue flicks out to wet them before he lets out a long, shuddering sigh. "Fuck my leg."

"I'll get your bag," Luis mutters, turning away from Leo in an effort to restrain himself. For all that Leo looks exhausted, the opposite is suddenly true for Luis. He *had* been tired--José was right about that, but whatever fatigue he'd felt has suddenly disappeared. His face feels hot already, the blood pumping through his veins simply at the sight of Leo again. It's always been this way, ever since they came together, and Luis focuses on composing himself as he picks up Leo's duffle from the entryway and brings it into the room.

"You're always taking care of me," Leo says softly, eyes fluttering open.

"Someone has to, eh?" Luis asks as he grins down at him. Then it's hard because... he doesn't know what to follow that up with. Someone has to take care of Leo, but nobody is now. Not in Barcelona. Not now that Luis is in Madrid. And that thought eats away at Luis every night when he falls asleep in his big empty bed.

Speaking of bed, though, he should probably try to drag Leo upstairs.

Leo's eyes are piercing now, studying Luis like he knows everything that's going on inside his head. "And who takes care of you?" Leo finally asks. He swivels his head to take in the rest of the room, gaze pausing on the pictures Luis has chosen to decorate the walls. Leo's seen most of them, of course, like the ones from Luis' time at Ajax and Liverpool, and he's in most of the other ones. But there's a new one that's caught his attention. It's Luis smiling with the rest of Atleti, holding up two fingers after his debut and brace against Granada. "Well," Leo says, "that answers that question, doesn't it?" he says dully.

"Are you mad at me, Leo?" Luis asks as his heart twinges. "Because I tried to make myself a home here? Because I tried to make friends and let myself fall into my new team? What did you expect me to do? Not speak to any of them? Try to make them lose?" He stops before he can let it get any more ridiculous, his pain threatening to turn into anger.

And he doesn't want to be angry.

"Of course not," thankfully Leo says instantly. "I would never--," he breaks off and rubs his hands over his face. "Fucking hell, I would never want you to be unhappy," he says as he drops his hands. "I'm glad you have Giménez and Torreira and found a new family here... One that accepts you and supports you and knows your value. Treats you the way you deserve to be treated... And I would never ask you or expect you to try to lose--don't put words into my mouth like that."

"Then what did you mean?" Luis asks, still feeling discouraged.

"Shit," Leo says, tugging his ear, "I don't know what the hell I'm saying, okay? It just threw me for a minute--seeing you in their colors. I know who you play for, obviously, and I've even watched your games. It's just... I didn't expect it amongst all the other pictures." He shakes his head. "And can you please sit next to me instead of looming like an idiot?" He softens it with a smile. It's a genuine smile, one with dimples, and his eyes are full of fondness as he holds out a hand to Luis. "Please," he says again. "I didn't stop here just to have you stare at me from across the room."

Luis is frustrated because he feels like... There is something *here* that they haven't finished talking about. And he knows what it is, knows that Leo never approved of him choosing Madrid, and that's bound to cause some problems down the line when they do actually play each other.

It's not really fair.

Maybe Luis has never come straight out and said it, but he thought it was implied. He thought Leo had understood... that the only reason Luis chose Atleti was that it was the *closest* geographical team that had made him an offer. He could have gone to Italy or one of the other big leagues... Hell, even Ajax said they'd take him back. But he didn't. He stayed in Spain.

For Leo.

But he knows now isn't the time for this discussion. Not when Leo's had the day he's had. And even if Luis wanted to continue on in this vein, he would still never refuse Leo's hand.

He lets himself get pulled down onto the couch.

"I'm sorry," Leo says once he's tucked under Luis' arm. He rests his cheek over Luis' heart and sighs again. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm..." He breaks off like he's thinking and then shakes his head. "I'm glad you told me to come. I would have just gone home and been miserable. Nobody talked on the bus to the airport at all. It's just complete shit. And now with the red--" he stops abruptly and shakes his head again, fingers clinging to Luis' shirt like a lifeline.

"It's alright," Luis says gently, letting his irritation bleed away. "Forget about it for a while, sweetheart." He lets his lips rest on Leo's crown, breathing in the scent of his shampoo again. "You smell so good. Like home. I've missed this."

Leo shifts beside him, sitting up straight so they're face to face. Luis' arm stays behind his shoulders along the length of the couch. "You're ridiculous," Leo says, but at least his melancholy seems to have lightened. "I probably smell like the plane." He reaches down and brings his travel shirt up to his nose. "Ugh. Yeah."

Luis honestly hadn't even noticed.

"You want to shower and go to bed?" Luis suggests, as Leo sits up further and looks down at his shirt in disgust. He opens his mouth to say something and instantly forgets what as Leo strips off his shirt and tosses it on the floor. "Um," he says as his eyes drift over Leo's creamy skin, pausing on those tiny pink nipples and then continuing down to that flat belly. Leo's gained back the weight he lost, but he's certainly still trim and fit. "That doesn't look like a laundry basket to me... Not that I'm really complaining."

"That's better," Leo says as he runs his fingers through his hair. And then before Luis can say anything in response, Leo's moved to straddle him on the couch. "And that's *even* better," Leo grins, hands settling onto Luis' shoulders. "Mmm, you're always nice and warm."

Luis' hands move to Leo's ass automatically to keep him balanced, even as he tries to catch up with the program. "I thought," he says, as Leo peers down at him in amusement, "that you were tired." But even as he says that his blood begins to quicken again. They've been apart too long and Luis' body well remembers it. He's now eye level with those tempting little buds and his mouth is watering. "We, we should sleep," he says, trying to convince himself more than Leo, perhaps, as Leo tugs Luis' t-shirt up over his head.

Leo's hands are keeping busy, next moving down to Luis' fly and popping the button. "We can sleep when we're dead," Leo murmurs, leaning down to kiss him for the first time that night while unzipping Luis' jeans at the same time. The kiss is hot and wet and full of emotion--full of things that are going unsaid.

Luis groans into it when Leo's fingers reach into his briefs and wrap around his cock. "Fuck, Leo," he breathes when he tilts his head back and Leo only continues to kiss his neck instead. "We don't have to--" he tries to say, so aware of how Leo can't possibly have the energy for--

"I want to," Leo murmurs as his lips suck a mark under his jaw. "I always want to."

The dam inside of Luis breaks.

He's not made of stone for god's sake.

He slides Leo's sweats down over his ass, shuddering when he realizes Leo isn't wearing underwear. "Fucking hell," he curses, and even as Leo kneels over him, they manage to draw the sweats down until Leo can kick them off. Luis grips those plump cheeks and lets his fingertips tease into the crease. "Do you--," he pants, "have something?"

Luis realizes that he's still wearing his jeans, but then Leo's pulled him out of his briefs and is thumbing the head of his cock, and he loses nearly all ability to speak.

Leo looks at him like he's an idiot and reaches over to his duffle with his other hand. Slapping the tube of slick into Luis' palm, he leans in to kiss him again. "Get me ready," he demands, moving his hand over Luis' cock slowly before letting their lips meet once more. There's a moan or two as Luis obeys, and the sound merely increases the arousal pooling in his belly. "Now, Luis, now," Leo begs after a minute or two, shifting his body to meet Luis' fingers eagerly.

Leo's gorgeous like this, sweat beading at his forehead while a rosy flush floats down his chest. His eyes are dark and fiery while he bites his lip and raises himself up, his own arousal bobbing hard between his legs.

Luis has half a thought for Leo's leg again, but then Leo's sinking down on him and everything goes out of his head at the feeling of tight heat around his cock. "Fucking hell," Luis mutters, hands spanning Leo's ass and trying to stop himself from digging his nails into the tempting globes. He rolls his hips, trying to move even though his jeans work against him as Leo starts to flex his thighs, and both of them hiss.

Leo doesn't say anything, just moves his hands to link around the back of Luis' neck.

"We could be doing this in bed," Luis pants as they get into a rhythm. "A lovely new bed, so big and empty and waiting for us to break it in." He can't stop touching Leo, keeps moving his hands from his ass to his thighs to his back. His palms smooth up Leo's chest, thumbs and forefingers pinching Leo's nipples just to hear him moan. Then they're drawing Leo's face down to his, tangling in his hair as he presses their mouths together for another kiss. "New sheets and everything," Luis pants when he finally has to breathe. "Black. I bought them thinking of how beautiful your skin would look against them."

Leo tilts his head back, elongating his body as he closes his eyes and undulates. "You can fuck me there next, then," he laughs, letting go of Luis and raising his hands up to run through his own hair. "We need to break in this lovely new couch first, don't we?" Leo adds with a smile, opening his eyes again and then looking down at Luis through his lashes. "And then you can fuck me anywhere you want."

"Kitchen table," Luis suggests breathlessly, gripping Leo's ass again. He stretches up to flick his tongue out at one of Leo's nipples, sucking gently when he catches it. Leo gasps and Luis smiles, delighted. "Got a strong one, Oak," he says thickly. "At breakfast, I want to feed you strawberries. And then dulce de leche--I want to lick it off you--"

There's a commotion behind them then as the front door opens and Koke bursts in, "Forgot my phone and I know I left it--" He stutters to a stop, hand pointing in the direction of the sideboard and mouth hanging open in surprise.

There's a moment of silence where they all just stare at each other.

Koke looks between Leo and Luis, taking in their state of disarray, eyes flicking down to where Luis' hands are cupping Leo's ass leaving no doubt as to what they're doing. His hand swings to point at them. "You're...?" And then he nods as realization dawns and he says, "Oh, well this explains a lot, doesn't it." Then he shrugs and grabs his phone, completely unflustered and immediately beginning to type something. "Okay, cool. See you at training on Monday, Suárez," he adds, before he's out of the house again, door slamming behind him.

Leo starts hysterically laughing. "You know, you know he's literally texting everyone on the team right now, right??" He links his fingers behind Luis' neck again, giggling madly, dimples fully on display. "You're never going to hear the end of it. Ending a party and throwing the team out of your house for a booty call."

Luis closes his eyes, knowing Leo's right, feeling his entire being burning with embarrassment. Leo kisses his forehead and then his eyelids, cackling as he drops more kisses down Luis' cheekbones and ends at the corner of Luis' lips. "This is your fault," Luis mumbles as Leo's mirth continues, nipping at Leo's mouth. "*I* wanted to go upstairs. He would have just been in and out without any idea. But you couldn't keep it in your pants for five minutes."

"Are you ashamed of me, my love?" Leo asks teasingly, hips rippling in a way that's calculated to drive Luis crazy.

"You know I'm not," Luis growls, palming Leo's ass and thrusting up to return the favor. Leo's laugh turns into a moan and Luis smiles victoriously.

After that, there's a lot less talking and a lot more fucking--which was not how Luis expected this day to end but he's certainly not going to complain about it. Leo's energy lasts about just as long as it takes for them both to come, and then he threatens to fall asleep right there on Luis' lap. For all that Luis is willing to go along with what Leo wants most of the time, in this case, he has no problem speaking up. It takes some poking and prodding, but they make their way upstairs and--after a quick shower--they do eventually end up in bed.

It takes Luis longer to fall asleep than Leo does, but that's just because Luis can't stop looking at him. He's pleased to note that despite the shadows still present underneath Leo's eyes, the rest of him appears completely relaxed and at ease. His breathing is deep and unhurried, chest rising and falling in sync with Luis'. Even as Luis pulls him closer, tucking him against his body, he never shows sign of waking--curling into Luis instinctively and humming happily.

It may only be for a night or two before Leo has to go back, but Luis will take what he can get.

(And for what it's worth... Leo's skin looks fabulous against the sheets.)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. Still a huge Leo/Luis fan. I have another fic in the middle of this series to come, and I also never finished my fic about Leo sending the burofax so that could show up in the future as well.


End file.
